


Burn

by Thursday26



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Post-Canon, post httyd 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:58:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday26/pseuds/Thursday26
Summary: A story I hate.





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unbetaed. Any errors are my own.

Hiccup is tired. 

He’s so tired.

Bitter.

Angry.

Hurt.

He’s put on a smile when needed, frowned when necessary, but he’s not connected to Berk right now; not connected to his people, eyes always locked on the horizon. He itches to feel the wind in his hair again, not just when he stands on the edge of a cliff and the sea breeze cuts through him. It isn’t the same as being above the clouds, or skimming over the sea, or brushing the tops of the trees, circling mountains… wind so biting his fingers would freeze in their hold… legs weak back on the ground… walking too slow and foreign…

He should be happy. His people are safe, the dragons are safe, even if they’re gone. And he seems to be the only one who remembers. Or maybe no one talks about it around him anymore. Maybe he can’t control his expression like he thinks he can. Maybe that’s why Astrid and his mom have been so gentle with him. He  _ did _ yell at the council member for an arguably small reason… but how can people just  _ forget _ about some of the most memorable years of their lives? How can everyone just  _ move on? _ How can they work day to day and smile like there never were dragons?

And he knows it was his idea, but how could Toothless leave like that? 

He knows he lost Toothless long before he took off for the Hidden World. Hiccup didn’t want to see it, giving his all and hoping that some of the things that he did would make Toothless want to stay. Maybe they could have worked together and figured something out. But, nope. Just a hug and a goodbye. 

Years.

Years.

So many years. 

And Hiccup is stuck on that cliff, Toothless’ arms around him, the smell of ozone in his nose, and the heat of fire pressing into Hiccup's front. Hiccup can remember it like yesterday, like it happened this very morning, but it’s been so many years. Hiccup’s eyes burn. He’s sad and angry. He’s angry that he’s sad. There’s no reason for him to be stuck so far in the past. Astrid is heavy with their second child, glowing and healthy. His family is healthy and whole. His village is safe. Hiccup should be  _ happy _ , but he can’t feel it.

All he ever feels is hurt. Maybe tired. Definitely anger, but that comes and goes in waves, mostly when Hiccup has sharp moments of realization that he’s grounded. Also when he realizes that he turned out not to matter, that he cared more than Toothless ever did. Hiccup believes that Toothless cared for him, genuinely, but only until the next best thing came along. Like all that  _ “we’ll do this together, bud!” _ stuff never mattered. 

Why is he brooding over this? It’s been years and he has everything he could ever need. He’s healthy, with a good family, and a sturdy house to raise his family in. A house that Toothless never stepped foot in, built in the year after Toothless left, but he’s  _ here. _ Tucked in a corner are all the blueprints for anything Toothless-related, along with every spare fin and saddle. Hiccup had foolishly kept everything and tended to everything, just in case because ‘goodbye’ has never meant forever with Toothless before. But it obviously did. Hiccup thought he matter, but he didn’t. Maybe he did, but not as much as Toothless meant to him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Zephyr wandering into the corner again, silent as a Terr… mouse. She knows she’s not supposed to touch, but she’s never listened; too much like HIccup for her own good. Hiccup can’t blame her. The leather of the saddle is soft to the touch, religiously maintained, oiled and repaired, if the bugs get to it again, the tails smooth and cool to the touch, and the paper a comforting scratch over fingertips. Hiccup has spent many nights looking over his Toothless corner, making sure everything is in good shape and finding comfort in the feel of his collection, in the smell of them. The ozone that once clung to the leather has been gone for a while, leaving the subtle scent of oil by itself. It never occured to Hiccup while he was creating all this tuff, that he would experience it like this, with a Toothless-shaped hole in his life. 

His stomach turns and his throat gets tight, eyes burning again. So many hours, so much care is lying in that corner, unused, untouched,  _ unappreciated _ by anyone else. Ingenuity, innovation, invention… all inert because Hiccup wasn’t  _ enough _ . Why not? When is he going to be not enough again? First his father, and now Toothless. Who’s next? Who does he disappoint next? New Berk? His family? His allies? When will he  _ ever _ be good enough for someone if it seems like it doesn’t matter how much he cares for them?

He sobs and Zephyr spins on her heel, hands behind her back. “Sorry, Da,” she says quickly. Her spin has upset the balance of the pile and blueprints start rolling to the ground. Zephyr bends quickly to pick them up, to clean up after herself. 

“Don’t touch them,” he orders and she snaps her hands back. Hiccup is suddenly so  _ angry _ , fire burning through his veins. He thought he gave everything to that stupid dragon and all Hiccup has to show for eight years of devotion, of frienship, is scribbles, a pile of scrap metal, and a missing leg. He stands and stalks to the pile, Zephyr shrinking as he looms over her, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Get away from them,” he growls and she scrambles back a couple of steps, genuine fear on her tiny face. He’d never hurt her, never raise a hand, but he knows his face is twisted and gnarled by anger and it’s face usually only his enemies see. Zephyr has never seen angry Hiccup before, she gets the one that smiles, the one who dotes on her and carries her on his shoulders. “Get  _ back!” _ he bellows. She’s already far enough away, but he needs to scare her away. He’s not sure why, but he needs her gone. 

Tears fill her eyes and she scurries off, not looking back. Hiccup tears his gaze from her retreating back and stares at his work, sight blurring with his own tears. He gave Toothless  _ everything.  _ **_Everything!_ ** Blood, sweat, tears, time, love, devotion, and  _ it never mattered _ . Poof. It’s gone. Who cares anymore?

He picks up the blueprint closest to him and unrolls it, the paper crinkling under his grip. It’s the first tail design, without the saddle attachment. Lucky thing. Perfect fit on the first try, Hiccup’s grip tightens more and the paper makes a noise of protest at the treatment. Hiccup turned his back on his  _ village _ , on  _ his people _ , for Toothless. Does that not matter?

A scream bubbles out of his chest and he pulls, the blueprint tearing to pieces in his hands. Not evenly. He can still see the drawing, so he rips it again and again and again before packing it into a ball and throwing across the room as hard as he can, a roar leaving him as he does so. The paper flies, tiny pieces flaking off like snow, and lands in fireplace, still warm with embers. Hiccup had been staring at the fire burning in the pit, wallowing and hurting. He didn’t realize it had burned so low. He tries to remember what time of year it is and if he needs to restart the fire for the home. The embers are hot enough that the paper catches fire, burning brightly and quickly. Hiccup is across the room, but he swears he can feel the heat as if it were pressed right into naked skin. Seeing that blueprint burn tears something inside him, but he can’t stop. 

Without any care, he gathers all the blueprints from the Toothless corner in his arms. There are so many, too many, too much  _ waste _ . He doesn’t dawdle, crossing the room and dumping the bundle onto the dwindling flame of his first blueprint. 

It takes a moment to burn. Hiccup watches it with unblinking eyes, face heating as the fire burns brighter and brighter, each scrap of paper consumed in flame. “Hiccup,” he hears coming from somewhere behind him. It’s Astrid, probably coming out of their bedroom. She had been napping. “I heard yelling.” Her voice is getting closer until he can feel her presence next to him. “What are you…” she pauses. “...is that--?” she asks, voice careful.

“Yes,” he responds, voice more even than he would have thought. Maybe he’s numb. 

He sees her arm reach out, probably to save some of the papers near the top, the ones that are taking the longest to burn. Hiccup can see that one of them has a drawing of a Night Fury on it. A detailed one. One of the sketches he made before copying it into the Book of Dragons. He snaps out a hand, grabbing onto her wrist, eyes still locked on the drawing, watching the flame move closer and closer. “Don’t,” he says, firm.

“But--”

He tightens his hold. “Don’t,” he repeats, firmer this time. The Night Fury burns, turning to ash before his eyes. Hiccup thinks he might throw up. He sobs once, releasing Astrid’s wrist and stalking back to his pile. There are a couple scattered pieces of paper, which he collects hastily and bundles the saddle under his arm. Astrid is still standing at the fireplace when he returns, but he doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t know if he can. 

Paper is tossed onto the flames, burning away quickly. He moves to add the saddle to the pit, but it’s snatched from his grip. “You can’t burn that in here!” Astrid says.

Hiccup stands there, eyes burning, his hands empty but still shaped around the saddle. “I have to get rid of it,” he whispers.

“What? Why? You’ve had them for… your blu--”

Hiccup snaps to face her, anger rising in his chest like a volcano. She takes a step back, eyes wide. “He’s not coming back!” he screams at her. She shrinks back, holding the saddle between them like a shield. “He’s  _ gone! _ Keeping this stuff…” he can’t finish his thought. He doesn’t know how to tell her that it’s killing him. 

“I thought--” she says quietly, like one would talk to a wild animal.

“They’re  _ gone!” _ he yells. Maybe if he’s loud enough, he’ll believe it, too. 

Astrid gulps and bites her lip. Hiccup is breathing heavily, limbs shaking. Eventually, she says, “I can repurpose the leather.” 

Hiccup’s eyes dart down, fresh tears falling from his eyes at the thought of the saddle being cannibalized, but she’s right. It’d be a waste of high quality leather to just burn it. “Make sure I don’t see it,” he pleads. Astrid nods quickly, sympathy filling her eyes.

Hiccup takes a step back and spots the extra tails, the red one near the middle of the stack is particularly hard to see. “I’m going to take the scrap to Gobber,” he informs her, forcing himself to move. He has to think about every single move, can feel every muscle protesting and moving under his command. Now or never.

Astrid doesn’t say anything when he leaves their house, arms laden with fin after fin. He can feel her eyes on him, but his eyes are on the new smithy. It’s still relatively new and not as blackened as the one Hiccup grew up in. More tears fall down his face. He gave up his childhood home. All his people did. 

Gobber is working when Hiccup walks in the back. “Hey Hiccup,” he greets cheerily, but his face falls when he sees Hiccup’s load. Hiccup drops them onto one of the mostly empty tables, the tails haphazardly spreading out but staying in a pile. “Are those--”

“Scrap metal,” Hiccup cuts him off, eyes darting to the small space where Grump would have lain. Gobber gives him sad eyes and Hiccup hates it. How can everyone be okay when Hiccup feels like he’s falling apart? “Get rid of it all. Melt it down, save the leather, but don’t let me see this scrap ever again, okay?” 

“Aye, aye, Chief,” Gobber salutes and rubs his hand over the scrap. His hand stops over the red piece, still mostly buried under the others. They twitch and he pulls his hand back. “Are you--” he clears his throat. “What changed your mind?” 

Hiccup forces himself to stop touching the pile, hands opening and closing. He has to take a deep breath before he can speak. “I’ve realized that dragons don’t exist.” Gobber’s eyes go wide. Hiccup turns and leaves before Gobber can respond. 

Like that, dragons become myth.


End file.
